


Butterfly Effect.

by Michaelssw0rd



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, BAMF Loki (Marvel), BAMF Tony, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), FrostIron- Freeform, Loki (Marvel) Feels, M/M, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-05-09 21:43:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14724113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michaelssw0rd/pseuds/Michaelssw0rd
Summary: Avengers Infinity War AU where Heimdall chooses to send Loki to earth instead of Hulk.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have nothing to say about this story except that it really wanted to be written. I hope you guys enjoy my brain's obsessive desire to re-imagine the entire movie with a touch of Frostiron and a lot of Loki.
> 
> UPDATE: It's been mentioned to me that the timelines are very confusing, so I can say this much without spoiling too much. There are two different timelines moving forward in the fic. Tony's PoV scenes are somewhere between Iron Man 2/Avengers 1, and Loki's PoV are from IW.  
> Just... trust me. It will make sense in the end. <3

Tony stumbles into his workshop with a phantom ache in his arm and the remnants of the recurring nightmare still clinging to his conscience—the taste of fire and the smell of ozone and the feel of red sand under his feet.

“Good Morning, J! Rise and shine.”

“The sun is not up, Sir… and neither should you be.” The lights still turn on, the workshop around him coming to life.

“And you should sass your boss less, but we can’t have everything we want.” Tony walks towards his work table, shaking the numbness away from his arm. “Pull up the schematics of the Mark V will you?”

The virtual display opens up. Tony moves it around, blowing it up and then winces at the shooting pain in his arm. “And while we’re at it, also pull up the schematics of my left arm.”

“Need I remind you that you are not an android?”

“No?” Tony peers at the connections in the foot thrusters of the design, trying to figure out how to improve its efficiency. “Pity.”

* * *

 

“Forefathers, let the dark magic flow through me one last time.”

Loki froze as the Heimdall looked at him, an apology in his eyes even if there wasn’t one on his lips.

“No,” he whispered, but the Bifrost was already summoned, its light blinding him. “No! I am needed here. NO!” He struggled, trying to run, trying to escape the pull of the cosmic bridge, but his screams were swallowed by the roar of Bifrost. The destroyed Statesman dematerialized from in front of his eyes, throwing him into the void once more, lost.

He landed in a place that was terrifyingly familiar.

“Fuck,” he swore wholeheartedly when he looked up and saw the blue sky. Not here. Not him. Not after what happened last time. What had Heimdall been thinking?

He lay on the ground, his one hand still outstretched, trying to hold on to what was left of Asgard before it was cruelly ripped away from him. A few moments later he got up and dusted his cloak, knowing there was no way out of it now. He had lost Tessaract, and the paths out of Midgard had always eluded him. He was stuck here unless he found a way out, back to what was left of Statesman… of his home.

Besides, Thanos was coming; Midgard needed to be warned.

Thinking of the Statesman and of his brother made him swear anew. Heimdall should’ve sent Thor. Loki wasn’t welcome here. How was he expected to convince them of the approaching danger when _he_ was the danger in the eyes of this realm?

A loud honk of the wretched metal vehicles the Midgardians preferred made him realize he was standing in the middle of the road. A car swerved past him, with the driver directing some choice curse words at him. When he lowered the windshield to glare at him, Loki saw his eyes widen in recognition.

Yes.

It was hard to forget the face of the man who had tried to invade your planet a few years ago.

He supposed it was only a matter of time until he was surrounded by Thor’s shield brothers who called themselves Avengers. The only logical course of action was to find them before they found him. Element of surprise was the only thing he had in his favor at the moment, and he was going to make the best of it. But where should he start?

As if in answer to the question he hadn’t voiced, his eyes found the large billboard sign on the roadside.

_‘STARK PHONES—the gadgets of the century.’_

Stark.

* * *

 

The tower looked the same as it had when he had chosen it as the stage for the climax of his drama—an eternity ago.

 _“Do you call failure, experience?”_ Thanos had asked him, but Loki had not failed at all. Not back then. There was too much at stake, too much depending on his perfectly played out failure, and he had weaved the lies with all the skills of a master liesmith.

He couldn’t afford to fail now either.

When he materialized in the balcony of the penthouse, his lips twitched upwards in a mockery of a smile. He had been here before. He never thought he would ever be here again.

Last time, the mortal had offered him a drink. He wondered if he might be shown the same courtesy this time around. He could do with a drink, and he had much to say.

He could see Stark walking around the floor, a metal creature following him around. Stark looked like he was _lecturing_ it. If what Thor had told him about Stark, and what he had gleaned from Clint was to be believed, that was very much possible. He waited until Stark was in clear line of sight of the window, still unaware of Loki’s presence, and then he rapped on the glass, twice.

Stark yelped, caught off guard, and covered his glowing heart with his hand like a maiden about to faint. Loki couldn’t help enjoying that image. But the shock on Stark’s face remained for a mere moment, quickly transforming into horror, and then rage. Then he tapped the glowing device on his chest, and right in front of Loki’s eyes an armor materialized from it, red and flowing like blood. It enveloped Stark’s torso like a second skin.

Loki had to admit he was impressed. He would’ve called this magic if he hadn’t been sure that he had felt no shift of cosmic energies. Stark had used his instruments and his mind to come up with something that would even impress the master spell weavers and smiths of Alfheim.

But at the moment, the magic armor had materialized a large gun on Stark’s hand, and despite his super healing, Loki knew it would hurt being shot by it. Despite what anyone said, he didn’t have a death wish. Not when there was a job he was tasked with. A job hundreds of Asgardians, Heimdall, and maybe even Thor sacrificed their lives to help him achieve.

So he raised his hand in surrender as he stepped through the glass. “I come in peace, Avenger.”

“Yeah, and I manufacture baby bottles.” Tony stepped forward, still as fearless as Loki remembered. “What do you want?”

“Five minutes of your time. Thor needs your help. In fact, the entire universe does.”

* * *

 

“Wait, wait, wait… back up. Thanos sent you?” Stark was still clad in his armor but at least his helmet was off. Loki took it as a show of willingness to trust. It was more than he had been expecting.

“Yes.”

“Bullshit. You can’t tell me it wasn’t you.”

“Oh it was,” Loki let his lips curl into the sharpest smile they could. “But every being has a point where they break, a point when the pain becomes too much. I thought you knew that.”

Stark flinched. Loki derived a moment of vicious satisfaction from that and then continued, “Now, if you’re quite done interrupting, I believe I only have three more minutes.”

“Yes. Sorry. Go on. Six stones, the Gauntlet, the Titan. Friday you following all this.”

“… certainly, boss.”

“You don’t sound so certain.”

“Stark!”

“You need to give me a minute here, buddy. You can’t just rearrange my world view like that. So, Thanos sent you here six years ago. Why?”

“To retrieve the Tesseract,” Loki bit out in annoyance. It was becoming increasingly grating to try and keep the conversation on track. “It is the space stone, capable of bending space and allowing its wielder to travel anywhere in known universe.”

“And where is the Tesseract now?” Tony asked innocently.

Loki admired the slyness of the human, setting a trap for him so fluidly. Loki could lie, but it would serve no purpose. “With Thanos,” he accepted, his eyes daring Stark.

Stark leaned back in his seat, putting his hands on his knees, as if he had won the argument already. “So, why again, should we trust your word?”

“Because you don’t have a choice,” Loki glanced towards the giant screen mounted on the wall, at the giant ringed spaceship descending from the sky and the people running in panic. “Nor, I’m afraid, do you have the time.”

* * *

 

 _“You are not the only one cursed with knowledge_ ,” a booming voice says, and its part mockery, part respect. The only thing Tony feels is dread, the only taste in his mouth the taste of death.

He jerks awake, a cry on his lips from a dream that is all too vivid even after weeks of recurring every night. Tony is around ninety seven percent sure it’s not a dream; it feels too raw, too real, to be called one.

Tony slowly sits upright, his brain foggy—or is it sharp, with the memory of gaping hole in the sky and a universe halved—as it always is when he wakes up from this particular nightmare.

“Jarvis, are we certain that earth has not been invaded and destroyed while I slept?”

“If it was, Sir, my programming would have surely compelled me to wake you up.”

“Someday _I_ would be compelled to delete that programming of yours,” he warns, groaning against the ache in his head.

“My continued existence is indeed up to your discretion, but if I may ask, however will you survive without it?”

Smiling helplessly at the antics of his AI, he shakes his arm again which is numb from him sleeping on his side… it is always numb these days, just like he always has nightmares these days.

He probably needs to consult someone with medical expertise about it. He just doesn’t know how he’s going to explain to a doctor that he is certain the world has ended in the near future, and do it without being hospitalized.

Tony wishes he was indeed been cursed with knowledge. It seems like his curse is the one of ignorance instead… of having forgotten a future that hasn’t arrived yet, but may even have passed a long time ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think, cause like... we, author-kind, thrive on feedback, and wither away without it. ♥


	2. Chapter 2

“Who are these people?” Stark’s voice shouted in his ear as he tried to duck away from the stones thrown at him telekinetically. Loki was trying to get used to a voice coming directly in his ear; it was a strange experience.

When Stark had seen the spaceship descend on the screen, he had taken but a moment to digest it. After that he had thrown a small piece of what he had called earwig towards Loki before carrying him out of the tower and into the fight.

Loki could see why Thor praised the valor of the Man of Iron so enthusiastically.

Once on ground, Stark had engaged with the aliens with his trademark bravado and recklessness. His attitude had sped up the start of violence in Loki’s opinion. Somehow he got the feeling Stark _enjoyed_ that.

They weren’t the only people on the ground fighting though. The wizard—and Loki had to quell his murderous rage at seeing him—and a young boy had also joined them pretty soon. Stark had glared at them, and then ordered them off the fight, but they ignored him completely. Despite the worry, Loki had been amused.

The amusement didn’t stay for long, not after hearing Maw’s speech, not after knowing there were not one, but _two_ stones on a realm as defenseless as Midgard. That Thanos was aware of them, and had sent his best to retrieve them already, did not bode well for them.

“Loki!” The voice from the device in his ear called again. “Please stop dreaming of what I’m sure is murder and treason and shed some light on our over dramatic alien friends.”

“The black order,” Loki whispered darkly, as he threw a spell to stun the Black Dwarf as he swung the axe towards him. It only seemed to annoy him more.

“That still doesn’t explain who they are,” Tony’s voice was frustrated. “Squidward there did the whole lecture on how we are blessed to be killed by Thanos, so I am guessing they are on his side.”

“They are his _children,_ ” Loki let his voice show his distaste for the word. “Stolen from their homes, trained to be the ruthless weapons he can wield.”

There was silence across the line. That wasn’t the appropriate word maybe, because there were sounds of grunts and blasts, but Stark didn’t say anything for a while. “I can understand that,” he said at the end.

“So can I,” Loki agreed, remembering what Odin had said about one day uniting the two realms, about using Loki as instrument to bring that about. Then he shook his head, focusing. “The one you’re talking about is called Ebony Maw. He loves Thanos just as much as he loves causing pain, in new and creative ways.”

“You don’t sound like you’re best buddies.” Loki had to marvel and curse Stark’s ability to multitask, fighting two of Thanos’s soldiers and chatting with Loki at once. “Seriously, Doctor, we need the stone out of here right now.”

“It stays with me.” The wizard matched them both in stubbornness, in a way Loki would’ve appreciated any other time. But right now, all he could think about was what would happen if Thanos got his hands on the Time Stone as well…

He cut off that thought before it could overwhelm him. He had lost all he could, there was nothing more to give. For him, it was as much about revenge, as it was about making sure the sacrifice of his people wasn’t in vain.

What did Stark say to him last time he was here? That if he couldn’t protect them, he would damn well avenge them.

And anyway, it was too late to hide the Doctor. Maw was here.

“No, we aren’t,” he answered instead. “He was one of my… enforcers, during my pleasant stay with the Chitauri.”

 “Ouch,” Stark’s voice was cold.

“Despite his monologue, I should warn you, he is a genius.”

“Earth already has me. Which means we have fulfilled our quota of geniuses. The White King needs to find some other planet.”

“How does your head even fit inside your skull?” Loki managed to get his magic to shackle Maw for a moment, noticing the banter was somehow helping him focus rather than distracting him. There was something freeing about joking during a battle that could lead to their deaths. It felt… more like a game somehow.

“That’s my secret. I could tell you, but then I’ll have to kill you, and I’m afraid killing you has gone a few points down in the things-I-must-do-immediately. Speaking of, who is the big one?”

“Black Dwarf.”

This time, Loki expected the snort of amusement from Stark.

* * *

 

The battle took the turn for the worse all of a sudden, when Maw decided it was better to secure his prize and run, rather stay here and fight. There was no honor in the children of Thanos, no stubborn pride. In some ways, Loki appreciated that.

Together with the wizard’s companion, Stark, and the spider-boy they managed to stop the Black Dwarf, but their distraction cost them the opportunity to stop Maw’s plan.

“Kid, that’s the wizard, get on it.”

“On it.”

The boy tried, Loki had to give him that. But it only made him get caught in the beam of light that was transporting the wizard up to the spaceship. Loki tried to magically counter the pull, trying to prevent it from taking the Doctor up with his time stone up to Maw’s spaceship, but his magic was ineffective against it, barely hindering the ascent for a moment.

“Friday, unlock 17-A.” He heard Stark say, panicked, and hoped it was some secret weapon to destroy the ship. Once on board, there was no way to get the stone back.

It wasn’t.

And the boy was as stubborn as his mentor; no forced parachuting was going to stop him from being foolishly heroic.

He felt the bottom of his stomach drop as the spaceship started moving, making to breach the atmosphere, leaving Loki helpless to stop it.

* * *

Maw was gone. The Doctor was gone. And so was the young boy.

By the scream of rage and pain that Stark emitted at the end, when he was already with his feet on the ground and the boy’s—Peter, Stark had called him—voice informed the he was on the ship, Loki deduced it was the last one that hurt him the most.

Loki could sympathize.

He had lost his children too, once, a long time ago.

And yet there was no time to grieve.

“Tell me you came here with a ship,” Stark demanded, turning his fury towards him.

Loki shook his head, making Stark let out a growl. “I should’ve been faster. I should’ve realized he wouldn’t do the reasonable thing. I should never have given him the suit in the first place.”

“The fault is not yours in this, Stark.” Loki raised his hand to put in Stark’s shoulder, only to have it shrugged off and a glare turned towards him, full of anger and hurt.

“We can’t all blame our shortcomings on others. Thanos didn’t _make_ me lose sight of Peter.” Loki flinched at his words, even as he knew he deserved them. Stark seemed to deflate at that though. “He was my so—he was just a child. My responsibility. I just, we can’t just sit here while that flying donut takes them to god knows where.”

“Titan.” Loki stared at the sky where the ship vanished.

“What?”

“Titan, he is taking them to Titan.”

“Then we need to go there too. Thanos can’t get his hand of the stone.”

Loki doubted Stark cared all that much about the stone at the moment. He just wanted the boy back. Unfortunately, Loki didn’t know how to help.

“No,” he said, even though Stark’s crushed expressions made him want to abandon his plans. There was no hope of getting back what Loki had lost; he wished he could help things be different for Stark. “We need to find a weapon that can kill him. The time stone is already lost.”

“Listen you asshole, Thanos has been inside my head for six years, since _you_ brought an army to New York. I say it’s enough. We need to take the fight to him.”

“We do.”

Stark stopped short, his mouth open. “We do? You agree then.”

“Yes. That is why we need to go to Nidavellir instead. Sentiment will get you nowhere Stark. This is war.” Loki didn’t mean to hurt Stark. These were the cards they were dealt. They had both lost a lot. Too much. And the universe would lose a lot more before this war was done.

“Fuck you,” Tony turned away. “I will get them back on my own.”

“There is no ship on earth that can travel to other realms. I can.”

“You have a ship?” Tony looked at him with a glint in his eyes. Loki knew if he was here on a ship, Stark would steal it and follow the Black Order to Titan.

“Not exactly.”

* * *

 

“Hey Pep,” Tony walks towards the coffee maker as his assistant follows him with a stack of papers, “How’s work?”

“Fine. You know. Without the boss showing his face in the office for a week. It could be a lot worse.” Pepper is frowning at him. She frowns often. A few weeks ago he didn’t used to find it as endearing as he does now.

“Who decided to make me the boss in the first place? I am an awful boss. Uh-huh. Bad idea. Ten points from Gryffindor.” The cup filled and Tony took a large sip of caffeine, as black as ash under his fingers that he can’t stop dreaming about. His arm aches with phantom pain again. It doesn’t feel anything like palladium poisoning that he suffered from a year ago, but he had Jarvis run all possible metal poisoning scans on his blood anyway.  “Can I resign on the basis of disability? Cause I am sure my arm will fall of soon.”

Pepper suddenly looks alarmed. “Is something wrong with your arm? Do you need me to call a doctor?”

“No, no.” Tony shakes his head, “My arm is fine. Well, fine is a relative term. The point is. I shouldn’t be the CEO. I am awful at it.”

hwhw“Well then, who will run Stark Industries while you mope about being bad at it?”

Tony thinks of the chair, of his office; he tries to picture himself behind it and the image seems all _off._ That’s not his seat. It’s… well. He looks at Pepper’s harried face and knows the answer to that question without any leap of faith.

“You,” he says.

Pepper laughs. “Don’t be ridiculous, Tony. Now, be kind to me and sign these papers, will you?”

“I’m not—“ One look at Pepper’s face tells him now is not the time for this conversation. He sighs and holds out his hand for the papers, and starts signing.

“Is there my will hidden inside this stack that you’re making me sign without reading so you can murder me in my sleep and inherit all my money?”

“Oh please, if I wanted to kill you, I would just need to resign.”

“Hey!” Tony looks up, protest on his lips, but in his heart he knows she is right. “That’s not true. Jarvis, tell her that’s not true.”

“Lying is not in my programming, Sir.” An AI’s voice should not be full of so much sarcasm. Ever.

“Traiter,” he murmurs and signs the last document, handing it back to Pepper.

“Oh, another thing,” Pepper puts the papers in her bag and says, “That kid applied for Stark Scholarship again.”

Tony stops, his heart suddenly beating loud, familiarity itching under his skin. “What kid?” he asks, trying for nonchalant. The way Pepper raises her eyebrows tells him he has failed at it miserably.

“Peter Parker?” she says, and the name feels painful even though Tony doesn’t quite remember ever hearing it before. “The kid that applies for a grant every year for the last three years.”

“Oh,” Tony says, looking at the floor. Something doesn’t add up. But still, “Why don’t we surprise him this time and accept?”

“Are you sure?” Pepper asks incredulously. “He is only eight.”

Tony isn’t sure. He doesn’t know why he’s doing it, but it feels important that he does. “What can I say, kid is on Santa’s good list this year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'all were so lovely with feedback on chapter 1. I hope you enjoy this chapter too. Let me know what you think. ♥


	3. Chapter 3

Loki hadn’t tried to traverse the branches of Yggdrasil ever since he fell into the void. Even the idea of stumbling, of losing his path, had his magic recoiling inside him, shrinking away from what might await it. But if anyone had known the heart of Yggdrasil, known the pulse of its branches like his own heartbeat, it had been Loki. Falling into the void had only made him more intimately familiar with it.

And he had no time to afraid. If he didn’t do this, he was lost anyway.

They relocated to the tower, because Loki was not fool enough to try something like that without finding his center first. When he sat down on the floor, closing his eyes, Stark’s patience finally snapped.

“Seriously? You’re going to go all Vulcan meditation on me? Can’t we just go?”

“You know what you speak of, mortal. It is dangerous to travel like that,” he explained, trying for patience when he was annoyed at his insolence. “If we’re not careful, we may end up somewhere neither of us are prepared for.”

Stark huffed, folding his hands across his chest. “I don’t remember it being like that last time.”

“Last time I was in possession of the space stone.” Loki bit out. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Stark made a sweeping gesture, which was patronizing and rude, but Loki chose to ignore it in favor of closing his eyes and focusing on his center, the part where the very essence of his magic came from. He was a child of Yggdrasil, before he was a monster of Jotunheim, or a prince of Asgard. The life tree lived inside him, and if he looked, he could see its branches, spread throughout the nine realms.

It was like moonlight, real, but if he reached for it, there was nothing to grasp. He channeled his magic into the mirage, until he could feel it pulsing inside his head. Hours passed, and finally, he could see it, the thread he needed to pull; one that would take him where he needed to go.

Without opening his eyes, he blindly reached for Stark’s hand, hoping the mortal hadn’t wandered off. He let out a sigh of relief when Stark’s palm slid into his immediately. Good. He couldn’t afford to be distracted right now.

“This will feel a bit weird,” Loki thought to warn Stark.

And then he pulled.

It felt the way it always did; like drowning and flying all at once. The light around him contracted and expanded through one heartbeat, one lungful of air, and then he breathed out and arrived.

“Whoa.” Stark almost toppled over when they landed, only Loki’s grip on his hand kept him upright. “What was that?”

“You can call it…” Loki thought about the words that would make sense to the mortal. “… Spacewalk.”

“Cool,” Stark clapped his hands together, standing up and then narrowed his eyes at Loki. “Wait a minute. Couldn’t we _spacewalk_ to Titan?”

“No,” Loki shook his head, standing up as well. “Titan is outside of nine realms, and the branches of Yggdrasil cannot carry you there.”

The mortal frowned, “So this place is one of the nine realms then? What is this anyway? Why is so dark? Is it Asgard?”

“This is Nidavellir.” Loki looked around, a quiet dread growing in his heart. “And something’s wrong.”

* * *

 

The rings were stationary, and the forge was dark. It made Loki feel more unsettled than he was willing to admit. Nidavellir had never gone dark in all the centuries Loki had lived.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Stark jogged to keep up with him. “I don’t care. I’ll ask anyway.”

Stark was still wearing his suit, but he had removed his helmet, so Loki could see his face. It was the barely hidden panic there that helped him resist punching him in the face. He looked straight ahead and made his way towards Eitri’s ring. That’s where he would find answers, and hopefully a way to kill Thanos.

Stark took that as his acquiescence. “So, you said this Heimdall guy sent you to earth when Thanos took over the ship, killing half of your people, yes?”

Loki curled his fingers into the fist and tried to push away the memories threatening to overwhelm him. He could break once Thanos had fallen. Not before that. “Yes,” he answered.

“Why?” Loki shot him a look that he knew was pure venom because Stark hastily corrected, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad _someone_ is here, but don’t you think someone else might have been a better idea? Someone like, say, Thor.”

Loki tried not to let the pain show, instead he clenched his teeth and looked away, “I completely agree.”

“You do?”

“Yes,” Stark couldn’t know how much he wished it wasn’t him here at this moment. It was Thor’s place, and the weapon waiting for them was also rightfully of Thor—of Asgard’s _king._ “Sadly, I wasn’t consulted before being sent here. And Thor is dead.”

He said it like it didn’t matter. He said it like the idea of never seeing his golden brother didn’t tear a hole in his heart. But all he could do was not let his death be a waste. He couldn’t save him, but…

“I’m sorry,” Stark said, after a long time, subdued.

Loki turned to look at him, surprised at the genuineness in his tone. Thor was Stark’s friend; he was expecting Stark to be upset at his death. What he wasn’t expecting was compassion for _Loki_. Something on his face must’ve clued Stark about his emotions because he smiled sadly.

“I know what it’s like to lose, well… everything,” Stark said, and Loki knew they weren’t just empty words.

He swallowed heavily and didn’t answer.

Stark didn’t speak again until they reached the darkest parts of the rings. Loki summoned up a green light to illuminate their path, getting more and more wary when no one intercepted them as they headed towards the heart of the forge, the entire realm quiet like the dead.

It couldn’t be Rock Trolls. The dwarves were too strong and shrewd to be defeated so completely by them. There was only one being capable of doing so, and thinking about it made Loki’s heart fill with cold terror.

Suddenly, something attacked them and he was slammed against a wall before he knew it. He called the magic to his fingertips, throwing it towards the attacker but Stark was faster. He shot forward, and battled the attacker like he had fought the Cull Obsidian, making up in ingenuity and speed what he lacked in height against it. By the time Loki had gathered his bearings and identified the person, Stark already had him flat on the ground, large canons that had somehow materialized from his armor pointed at him.

“Stand down, Lannister, or I’ll blow your head off.”

Loki stood up, walking closer and placing a hand on Stark’s metal shoulder. Then he looked at the King. “Eitri,” he nodded, forgoing the formal bow because he could tell the dwarf wouldn’t appreciate it. “What happened here?”

* * *

 

When he asked Eitri for a weapon, he expected to be laughed at. When he told him about fall of Asgard and of Thor, he expected to be called a liar. The Dwarves had no love for him, nor any respect.

And yet, all Eitri did was nod with grim determination, and motion them to follow him. He looked like a man who had seen hell and wished he hadn’t survived it.

“Eitri, what did you do?” he asked, cause he understood guilt when he saw it.

“I failed my people as a King.” Eitri’s words were not clouded with emotions. He said it like a fact. “To save them, I made him a weapon to harness the power of the stones, and he killed them anyway. Every last one of them. Everyone except me.”

Loki froze for a moment, but Eitri’s stride didn’t waver. He had a purpose now. And he led Loki towards it. They would’ve made the rest of the journey in silence, but Stark interrupted them with a whisper that rang loud in the silence around them.

“I thought dwarves were supposed to be short!”

“Then you supposed wrong, didn’t you?”

Loki grimaced, shooting a look at Eitri and looking for signs of him feeling insulted. There were none. The jibe did what Loki supposed it was intended to. The heavy sorrow that had wrapped around them faded a little.

When they reached the eye of the furnace, Eitri pressed a button. The mechanisms engaged pulled up a metal slab and placed it right in front of them.

“Is this it? Are we going to slap Thanos with a giant brick?” Stark asked, but Loki already knew what it was.

“It’s a mold,” Eitri answered, looking at Loki. “One to make a weapon fit for the King of Asgard.”

“I am no King,” Loki shook his head. That title had always belonged to Thor.

“No,” Eitri agreed. “But you could’ve been. Two molds were made for Asgard ten centuries ago, for the day they might be needed. Storm-Breaker, Thor’s weapon, an axe that could call the power of Bifrost itself… and _her._ ”

“What is it?” Stark asked the question that Loki couldn’t get out across the lump in his throat.

“A dagger that can harness and channel the Seidr of Yggdrasil. If your aim is true, she will never miss the heart of your enemy.”

“What’s she called?” Loki asked, his voice awed. He didn’t know… he could never have known.

“Starlight.”

* * *

 

“Sir, Miss Pepper has asked me to remind you that the official first-contact meeting is going to be take place in a week’s time. The Prime Minister has requested your presence in the Parliament house during the ceremony.”

Tony tinkers with the arm of his new suit, testing the new self-regeneration system he has been working on for a while. He thinks he has done this before. There is no way he can know the things he knows about nano-tech instinctively, as if he is born with this knowledge.

“My presence, or my suit’s?”

“As the suit is only available while attached to your person, I’m assuming both.” Jarvis’s sass is as predictable as it is welcome.

“Well then, I suppose I better clear my schedule.”

“If I may ask, Sir, you don’t seem to be interested in what might as well be humanity’s first meeting with alien races.”

Tony twists his lips, figuring out how to phrase it. “I guess I’m not someone who believes in little green men,” he settles on in the end.

“And?” Jarvis, the little shit, knows him entirely too well.

“And I think if aliens were going to make contact, they will come flying through the sky in ugly warships with weapons blazing, rather than make polite appointments.” He abandons his suit to get a cup of coffee. He suddenly feels a headache coming on.

“That’s rather morbid ideology.”

“What can I say, I’ve seen it happen before.”

Just because it’s a dream, doesn’t mean it’s not true. He doesn’t have the energy to explain that to his AI. He needs to prepare for when his version of first contact does happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might, just, be a tiny bit in love with Loki's dagger. It will get clearer in the coming chapters but yeah... I love her!  
> Let me know how you liked the chapter, pretty please. ♥


	4. Chapter 4

 The rings were frozen.

Of course they were. The Norns had never made anything easy for Loki.

“So… what are we waiting for?” Stark was bouncing on his feet, obviously excited to see the craft of dwarves. Loki reminded himself that this mortal was an inventor of his own realm—the best of inventors, if what he heard was true. His fascination with the dwarven creations was to be expected.

If Loki wasn’t mistaken, he had seen Eitri glance at Stark’s armor with curiosity and barely hidden interest as well. If they had met during times that were less dire, Loki was sure these two would’ve become fast friends.

It was Eitri who answered Stark. “When Thanos killed everyone on this ring, I let the forge go cold and allowed the rings to freeze over. Without starting them again, I can’t melt the Uru to make the dagger.”

“Okay. How do we unfreeze them?”

“The last time the forge had gone cold, I was but a child. It had taken a hundred dwarves to rekindle it. It is… not possible with what we have at our disposal.”

Loki felt his shoulders slump under the weight of defeat. If Eitri thought they couldn’t get the mechanism to work, then Loki believed him. Except, there was a calculating look on Stark’s face, the one that told him he wouldn’t accept defeat so easily.

“Can you run me through the basic mechanism? I believe I can come up with something.” Stark walked a little distance and settled down a stone, beckoning Eitri with a gesture.

“Child… this needs power beyond capabilities of any mortal I’ve ever met. Not even Thor could do it. Not alone” But he still moved closer to him, Stark’s confidence pulling him in.

“You haven’t met me before,” Stark winked, full of bravado. “And none of them had nano-tech.”

They dwarf and the mortal talked for a few minutes. Loki watched Eitri’s expressions change from grim to thoughtful to hopeful. Then Stark stood up, clapping his hands.

“Alright. I think I’ve figured it all out. My suit can definitely provide the power to jump start a star… how cool is that? I think it’s pretty cool. Let’s do this.” He stands straight and orders the prince of one realm, and the king of another like he is the one who is in charge here. “Gimli, I will need you to be at the ring mechanism, giving it a push when I say so. Bambi, I need you to hold me with a magic thread that won’t break with the full power of my thrusters. Nano-bots, I’m trusting you to give me all you got here. Everyone ready?”

Loki glanced at Eitri, waiting for him to be insulted. The dwarves never took orders from anyone. To his surprise, the King had a small smile on his lips instead.

“I like the boy,” he told Loki as he passed him by, probably to stand by the mechanism as Stark had asked, “He would’ve made a good dwarf.”

“What about you, Lolo?” Stark turns towards him, as if gaining the favor of the King of Nidavellir was something he did every other day. “Will you be able to deliver, or will there be performance issues again?”

Instead of dignifying that with an answer, Loki reached for the magic around him and a silver thread materialized, wrapping itself around Stark’s torso. In retaliation of his crude joke, Loki pulled the thread a little too tight until even Stark’s sturdy armor creaked under power cosmic held within the thin gossamer thread. Instead of being intimidated, Stark just threw his head back and laughed.

Beautiful, Loki found himself thinking. Beautiful and insane.

“Play nice,” Stark told the thread, and then took to air, carrying Loki with him. “Hold on tight!” he said as he deposited Loki where he wanted him to be. Then he flew ahead and collided against a giant frozen ring directly opposite to Loki.

The force of Stark’s powerful push made Loki stumble, but he quickly regained his footing. Stark pushed one ring, the thread holding Loki back transferred the same force to the other one, and for a while it looked like nothing would happen.

And then the rings creaked, the ice around it splintering under the assault. The ring began to move.

Loki could only stare in awe as the mortal who whose blood was made of iron rekindled the dying star, and helplessly shared in the whoop of delight as the beam of light struck Uru, getting them one step closer to Thanos’s end.

* * *

“You’re going to…” Stark turned towards Loki, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Wait, you are actually serious?”

“There is no other way, Stark.” Loki would be lying if he said he wasn’t touched by Stark’s concern, but it wasn’t the time or place. “The mechanism is broken. Someone needs to keep the iris open.”

“There must be a better way than letting yourself be barbequed by the full force of a star! I mean I know a little something about self-destruction, but this is a whole other level.” Stark grasped his hair in frustration and paced. “No one can survive this!”

“You’re forgetting I am not mortal, like you.” Loki snarled.

“And you’re forgetting you’re still destructible.”

“He is right, Loki. If you do this, you _will_ die.” Eitri’s voice was grave.

“If I don’t do this, half the universe will.” Loki wished there was another way. He really wasn’t looking forward to being charred to death either, but if this was the cost of creating a weapon that could kill Thanos, so be it. “How long do you need to heat the metal?”

“A few minutes, maybe more.” Eitri could see the determination on Loki’s face and knew he couldn’t change his mind.

Stark though, was singularly stubborn. “Can’t you like… keep it open with magic?”

It was Eitri who answered. “This whole forge is surrounded by anti-magic wards. No magic can move them, I’m afraid. It was done to keep Nidavellir safe from any attack my mages, but right now, it means the only way to keep the iris open is to physically hold it so.”

“But…”

“Enough!” Loki said the word quiet, but the finality in the tone was obvious. “There is no time for arguments. It is as the Norns wish it to be.”

“You…” Stark opened and closed his mouth, looking distraught. Loki gentled his expressions, if only a little.

“I didn’t know you cared,” he said, before putting on his trademark smirk and turning away.

Stark’s hand on his shoulder took him by surprise, pulling him around again.

“You son of a bitch,” Stark said, and then before Loki could process what was happening, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Loki’s, harsh and demanding. Loki didn’t even recover enough to reciprocate before Stark was pulling back and taking a step away “If you leave me all alone in what is creepily reminiscent of the mines of Moria, without a way back, I swear to god I will revive you just to kill you myself.”

Loki could still feel the phantom sensation of Stark’s soft lips pressed against his own. He chuckled. “Your warning has been acknowledged, Stark. I’ll try not to die.”

“You do that!” There was a charming blush on Stark’s face, which told Loki that the kiss had been just as unplanned and unexpected for Stark as it had been for Loki, but Stark refused to be embarrassed about it.

Loki nodded, and turned around. Eitri patted his shoulder as well. “Good luck, boy,” he murmured and engaged the mechanisms that would be needed to make the dagger once the Uru melted.

Loki looked at the dying star in front of him, and pondered how to get from the ring to the iris. He heard the sound of metal against metal, and almost expected it when Stark said, “Want me to carry you there?”

Despite the danger awaiting them ahead, Loki’s lips formed a smile. “Yes, please.”

“Alright. But only because you said, _please._ ”

* * *

 

It burned.

Loki was expecting it, expecting the way his hands would blister the moment he touched the metal, but the reality of a star burning at his back was something he couldn’t have anticipated.

He threw up a shield of his magic, and knew it wouldn’t last for long, could already feel the heat bleed through it and scorch his back. Helplessly, he screamed. He had been the Other’s play-thing for months, so he was no stranger to pain, but this… this was something else. He felt his skin bleed blue, the cold rising from inside him to battle the heat, but it only made the burning worse, the last vestiges of his magic giving away until he was left raw and burnt.

Just when he thought he would succumb to the heat and the pain—he couldn’t, not yet, it had hardly been half a minute—he remembered the way Stark’s eyes had shone with anger and worry as he had pressed a kiss to his lips.

It kept his shields up for another few seconds before his knees gave out.

He expected to fall into the empty void, or to fall back into the dying stark. He wasn’t sure which one he dreaded more, but both will be an end to the anguish he was in at the moment. Both will be a relief. To his faint surprise, instead of doing either, he was carried by someone and placed gently on the cool metal ring. He twitched at the way the metal felt like agony on his scorched back, but there were soothing fingers running through his hair that helped make it less unbearable.

“It’s over now. You did it. You crazy son of a bitch,” the voice was comforting and he let it lull him to a sleep from which he wasn’t sure he could wake up. “No. No. No. Don’t sleep. You can’t.” The panic in the voice made him pry his eyelids open but he couldn’t make out any shapes. “He’s dying!” The voice called out, loud. “He needs help.”

“He needs the dagger,” another familiar voice shouted. Along with it, came the sound of something crashing on the ground again and again, and then silence. “Where’s the handle…”

“Loki. Wake up. Loki…”

Loki couldn’t stay conscious. The pain of staying awake felt like too much effort, and the sweet oblivion of the dark was too inviting. The last thing he remembered was an anxious murmur of “… fuck. I hope the bots don’t mess with the mumbo jumbo…” before he let his consciousness fade.

* * *

 

Tony sips his drink and his eyes roam around the bar, lingering on a specific person with intent. A reporter called Tom, who had grilled Tony during the conference a few hours ago, with a smirk on his lips and a playful glint in his eyes. Tony had instantly wanted to taste the sharpness of that tongue against his own.

And Tony Stark gets what he wants.

He gets up and saunters over to where Tom is leaning against the counter, a drink in his hand. The smile on his lips tells Tony that he knows why Tony is here, and that he’s interested. This is a game Tony knows how to play.

“So… about that interview…” he opens casually, leaning into Tom’s personal place. The man’s hair aren’t dark enough for Tony’s liking—and he doesn’t know when he developed preferences for hair color—but he doesn’t let it put him off.

“Sorry. I’m off duty now, and enjoying my free hours.”

That’s Tony’s cue. “Care to enjoy it someplace better. My bedroom has a fantastic view.”

“I was hoping you’ll ask.” Tom smirks, and it’s just as sharp as Tony remembered. He hasn’t chosen wrong.

The sex is wonderful, except in all the ways it’s not; in ways it hasn’t been since Tony started having the nightmares. There is something off in the noises his partner makes, the way his eyes are the wrong shade of green, the way the skin under his hands feels strange. It makes Tony struggle to keep being interested. He closes his eyes, and the differences vanish, replaced by cold lips and hands that grip him just hard enough, and when he comes it’s while biting back an unfamiliar name on his lips that feels so very familiar anyway.

_Loki._

He looks at the flushed and pleased expressions of the reporter under him, and collapses in bed with a sigh that he hopes sounds more pleased than dejected. There is an ache in his chest and he wonders if decades of drinking too much alcohol has finally started effecting his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news: I have finally finished the draft of this fic. Bad news: Creative burnout is real and awful, and the insecurity it causes is the worst!
> 
> Let me know what you thought? :D Writing this chapter made me catch absolutely unexpected feels about Tony and Eitri's friendship, and I really hope its nice to read as well.


	5. Chapter 5

 

Loki had always felt the throbbing vein of the world tree surrounding him, separated by a veil, its limitless power just out of his grasp. As a mage, he was born with the ability to perceive the power of the Yggdrasil, tap into it, and channel it through his body to breathe life into his magic. He had spent tireless hours training with Frigga and with the elves of Alfheim, to hone in his focus, to be able to draw more, until he was considered one of the Master Mages of all realms.

But it was all nothing compared to when he held Starlight in his hand.

The veil between his perception and the Yggdrasil shattered, his body becoming a mere vessel for the power of the tree connecting all nine realms. He felt its beat sync with the beat of his heart, until he was one with it.

“Hey! You’re awake. Are you awake? Your eyes are white so I am not so sure? Did I fuck it up? Are you—“

“Anthony,” he interrupted, without knowing why he called him that. It just felt like right, like the name belonged to him. The mortal shut up at hearing his name, biting his lip in concern and anxiety.

Looking at Anthony with the seidr of Yggdrasil running through his veins was nothing like he could’ve ever anticipated. He was enveloped in red aura, his life force beating gold and crimson, and in his center glowed his heart: white, like the very nature of Yggdrasil itself. Tiny tendrils the magic grew from the Tree and wrapped around him, taking root in his soul, and Loki knew that there was more to this mortal than he had been able to see. Something important, and essential.

Anthony was a part of Yggrdasil, and maybe the Yggdrasil was part of him as well.

“Hey, Lolo. You’re scaring me here. Are you alright?”

The genuine worry in the Anthony’s voice broke through to him, jerking him out of the trance he was in. He shook his head, and loosened his grip on the dagger, breaking his connection with Yggdrasil. It felt like stepping into the dark, but after the blinding brightness, the darkness wasn’t unwelcome. Then he looked at Stark again, replying.

“I’m quite alright, Stark. Quit your pestering.”

“Oh good. You’re back. Not that the glowy eyes thing wasn’t cool, and you carry them better than Aang in his avatar state, but still a little creepy for my taste. Do you even know you’re blue?”

He looked down at himself and was surprised to see he was still in his Jotun form. With the power of Yggdrasil in his hand and his magic replenished, it took him but a moment to rearrange his form into the more palatable Asgardian visage.

“Better?” he asked, unable to keep away the bitterness from his voice.

“Hey! I never said I didn’t like the smurf look. But still, it’s a relief to know I didn’t break you.”

Loki tilted his head to the side curiously, the world still feeling odd and raw around him. Stark read the question on his face and explained.

“Eitri made the dagger, and was scrambling for a handle, and you were dying so I just…” He waved his hand in vague direction of Loki, and it took Loki a moment to realize what he was saying. He looked down at Starlight, for the first time looking at his dagger, black like the darkness of space but still shining with the potential of all the stars. Beautiful… yet terrifying in its sheer power. It took him a moment to notice that its handle was made of metal much like Stark’s armor, red and gold. It looked beautiful in contrast to black Uru, even if those weren’t his colors.

As if the handle could read his mind, the red transformed into green right in front of his eyes. He looked up at Stark in surprise.

“Yeah. They do that. These nano-bots… they’re…well I would say sentient but that’s not it. They are intelligent. Can change shape and size according to your wishes. Once we are back on earth, I can remove them and you can come back here and choose a handle of your liking, if that’s what you want. You were dying so I had to--”

“It’s perfect.” Interrupting Anthony’s babbling was going to become a habit of Loki’s, he was sure. He was surprised that the prospect wasn’t as distasteful as it once might have been.

“It is?”

“Yes.” He experimentally willed the handle to elongate and curve, to fit into his palm more perfectly, and it did. Magic, much like the one the blade held. He couldn’t have wished for something better.

“Who am I kidding? Of course it is. Nano-bots beat wood any day.” Stark recovered fast, grinning at him in relief and excitement. “So, we have the weapon. What now?”

“Now we find Thanos.”

“How do we do that?”

Instead of answering Stark, Loki closed his eyes and reached for the Yggdrasil again, letting the overwhelming magic pour into his body, letting himself travel with the pulse of the Tree, searching. When he opened his eyes, he knew.

“Earth.”

* * *

It was remarkably easy to travel through the hidden paths with Starlight glowing in his hand. He just thought of where he wanted to be, focused on it. Then he blinked. A moment later he materialized in a battlefield.

He couldn’t have arrived a moment too soon.

The battle on earth was a vicious one, and it looked like it had been going on for a while. The moment they landed, Stark snapped on his faceplate and fired at the creature that was attacking a human in front of him. Loki, barely sparing a moment to admire Stark’s quick reflexes, swung his own dagger and sliced through the creature that jumped on him; it screamed, disproportional to the wound, and then burst into flames.

“Wow.” Stark hovered in the air and despite the faceplate, Loki knew he must be gaping like an ape. “That’s hot.”

Just then another of Thanos’s wretched creations jumped on Stark’s back. Before Loki could summon an attack, Stark activated the system in his elbow and blasted the creatures off.

“What are these… things?” Stark asked, coming closer to Loki, covering his back and fighting off the creatures that seemed to have honed in on them.

“Parasites,” Loki snarled. “With minimal intelligence, created for serving their masters, or die trying. Thanos calls them Outriders.”

“Sounds nasty,” Stark shot off in the air, stopping for a moment to look back at him, “Speaking of the bastard, we should find him.”

Loki just nodded, knowing Stark would understand it as a go ahead. Finding someone in a fight like this wasn’t easy, and Stark was most capable of finding him. Once he did, Loki knew by the feel of Stark’s metal under his palm, humming with the magic of the dagger, that it would be easy for Loki to find Stark. Even if it wasn’t for the connection between the two, Loki would only have to follow the sound of chaos and bravado.

Without another word, Stark took to air, and Loki focused on slaying the Outriders in his path, clearing it towards the direction his magic urged him to. He saw his former enemies—the Avengers—fighting alongside him. The Widow with too much red on her ledger was fighting off three of the creatures at once, and her eyes widened with Loki cut the head off of the one that about to rip her apart. There was no time for old grievances though, and they both knew it. She communicated her gratitude with a nod, and dived back into the fight, and Loki continued his journey towards the woods. It was where his magic led him.

He was into the woods when he heard it: Stark’s scream.

Loki felt the agony in that scream tear through his own heart as he burst into the clearing, absolutely unprepared for what he might face. The first thing he noticed was Stark, sitting on the ground, but unharmed otherwise. It was after he was sure of Stark’s wellbeing that he noticed the rest of the scene in front of him. He spared a moment to re-evaluate his priorities, because the being that had killed his family, his people was not the first thing he noticed.

But once he saw Thanos, really _saw_ him, standing tall and arrogant and _despicable,_ he felt the rage rise up from his heart, and shake his bones. The power of Starlight fuelled his anger, until he could feel it burning in the pit of his stomach. This was it. This was his moment of revenge.

“You should not have killed him.” The voice he heard was so full of venom that it took Loki a moment to realize it wasn’t coming from him. “He was my friend.”

Stark had stood up now, and Loki could see the body he was crouching next to and its red skin. Loki knew about this one; Thor had mentioned him. Vision. The android with mind of soul stone and heart of Stark’s JARVIS. Right now, there was a hole in his forehead and open wires were visible from it.

The mind-stone, Loki thought detachedly, Thanos had it now. Loki could see it glinting on his gauntlet. They were out of time.

Luckily, Stark’s rage was doing an excellent job of distracting the mad Titan.

“Stark,” Thanos said, sounding curious.

Loki startled, just like he was sure Stark did. “You know me?”

“You are not the only one cursed with knowledge.”

Loki saw Stark straighten at that, his metal arms changing shape. “My only curse is you,” he declared, before attacking Thanos with full force.

Neither of them had noticed Loki, and Loki didn’t want to draw their attention to him. Thanos was moments away from destroying the world as they knew it. Keeping him entertained was in their best favor.

Even so, Loki couldn’t help but admire the ferocity with which Stark fought, the way his attacks were fluid and strong, retreating and charging forward again. He almost gasped when Stark landed the blow to Thanos’s head.

Thanos rubbed the wound on his forehead. His fingers came away blood stained. “All this, for a drop of blood?” Thanos mocked.

“No.” Stark’s smirk was obvious in his voice. Then he looked right at Loki. “All this so you don’t see _that_ coming.”

That was Loki’s cue. He let gripped Starlight tight, gathered all his anger and rage, and plunged it in Thanos’s heart the moment he turned towards Loki.

The blade hit its mark, and Loki saw with satisfaction as the Mad Titan fell to his knees, the ashen color of death spreading from his heart to his face.

And yet, there was a smile on his face, as he mouthed a sentence that took Loki a moment of horror to interpret.

“Should’ve gone for the head.”

* * *

 

Snap.

And the world ended.

“What did you do?” Stark whispered in horror he couldn’t even comprehend. He seemed to be frozen in shock.

Loki didn’t freeze. Not yet. He knew this was the moment he needed to act, or else it would be all forfeit. He had aimed wrong last time, but he would not falter again. He pulled out the dagger from Thanos’s chest with a wet squelch. In the next moment, he swung it, precise and sure.

Thanos’s left forearm fell to the ground with a dull thud, mere moments before the rest of his body vanished.

* * *

 

There’s a bottle of whiskey in Tony’s hand, and it’s woefully empty.

“Dum-E, be a dear and bring me another from the lower shelf?” Tony gestures at his bot, and watches it quizzically move its appendages. “What? I am not going to trust you with the top shelf. I love you, but you are a mess, sweetie.”

He smiles at it anyway, too drunk to be able to hide his adoration behind his grumpiness. His bots are a part of him, his creation… almost his children. Dum-E spends another moment whirring, before rolling over to the cabinet. Tony hears a distinctive crash, and winces at the fate of his alcohol. He hopes at least something survived.

A few moments later, Dum-E rolls back towards him where Tony is sitting on the floor with his back against his work table, and offers him a bottle.

“That’s my good boy,” Tony takes it with a grateful smile, pulling off the cork and taking a swig. Bots can’t smile, but he is sure Dum-E is pleased. The way it’s vibrating is a dead giveaway.

“Sir, if I may—“

“Shut up, Jarvis.” Tony is not in mood to be lectured today.

“You have consumed a dangerous amount of alcohol already, sir.” His creations aren’t polite enough to listen to him, after all.

“Well, you would too, if you knew what I knew.”

“What exactly it is that you know?” Jarvis asks, genuinely curious. “Is it about the dreams you have been having recently?

Tony thinks about the nightmare that woke him up in cold sweat, about the cold dread in the pit of his stomach, and ignores the question.

“Dum-E, can I ask you a question?”

The bot rotates to face him, waiting.

“Sir, I don’t think Dum-E is capable of giving an adequate answer.”

“Zip it, Sherlock. I didn’t ask you.” Tony waves a finger. It blurs in front of his eyes. Then he turns towards his bot. “If you wanted to end the sufferings of the world—the universe even— how would you do it?”

There is a charged silence, Jarvis for once listening to him, and Dum-E being incapable of speech. Tony takes another gulp of the bitter liquid and sags against the worktable behind him. He stares at the ceiling for a moment, and then continues. “Let me make it easier. Would you destroy half of the sentient life… half of everything, to bring it about?”

This time the silence that reigned was shocked. U rolled towards him as well, concerned. Tony looked at his quiet bots, both moving almost soundlessly. Then U’s movement produces a sudden loud screech, startling in absolute quiet. Tony laughs. There is no humor in his tone.

“I thought so.”

Tony continues drinking from his bottle, and Jarvis makes no comment about his blood alcohol level again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am _so_ sorry. But like... it's infinity war. Also HEY, LOOK! STARLIGHT!


	6. Chapter 6

Loki wasn’t sure if it was if the hush that fell after Thanos’s disappearance was real, or his imagination. Surely the battle raging in the open fields had no idea what had transpired in the last few minutes.

And yet, it felt like the even wind had fallen silent, holding its breath in anticipation.

Starlight pulsed in his hand like a beating heart, red blood dripping from it.

Then the Scarlett Witch, who had been just coming around from where Thanos had knocked her unconscious, opened her mouth to speak—or to scream. No sound came out; instead, Loki watched in horror as her body disintegrated in front of his eyes, turning into dust and blowing away with a breeze that wasn’t even there.

That’s how it began.

“Loki?” Stark’s voice was quiet, tentative and scared, looking for answers and reassurance that Loki wished he could provide.

He was beginning to form an idea, but it was too terrifying to admit it yet, even to himself.

All he could do instead was shake his head lightly and turn back around to walk towards the battlefield. Stark followed him.

What he saw, chilled him to the very bones. The battle had stopped raging, not because any side had won, but because of the sheer shock. Shock caused by humans and outriders transforming into dust, into ash that only left a trace of ozone in the air as it vanished like it never was.

Loki heard Stark’s startled gasp, but himself he didn’t even dare do that; everything was too fragile, _he_ was too fragile, and a gasp might just break him, make him crumble into dust as well.

Loki reached for the power of Starlight, and realized the destruction didn’t end there. Yggdrasil was crumbling under the force of the lives wiped out of existence, souls ripped out of its grasp and denied their rightful place in Valhalla.

In his mad search for balance, Thanos had tipped the scales of life in the universe on a scale that was impossible to comprehend. The Seidr of the tree was screaming, and Loki let out a scream along with it. He didn’t remember falling to his knees, but next thing he knew he was clutching his head and thrashing on the ground.

He felt someone pry the dagger out of his hand. He resisted, until he heard a calm but familiar voice telling him to let go. He did, curling in on himself and rocking back and forth. When arms came around him to hold him, he didn’t fight them.

The biggest gamble of his life, built on sacrifices of so many, and he had lost it. The universe was paying for his failure.

“Fuck.” Stark said with feeling, and if Loki wasn’t choking on panic, he would’ve laughed at the appropriateness of the curse.

* * *

When Fandral came in a small ship a few days later, Loki didn’t need him to say it. He knew. Thor hadn’t made it.

He did make himself ask though, ask how he died, and almost hoped it was by the final snap, turning into dust and blowing away. The tight clench of the Fandral’s jaw gave him the answer before Fandral even opened his mouth.

“Only the green beast made it out of Statesman,” Fandral said, and Loki nodded tightly. Loki had known this on some level from the beginning, but had been unwilling to believe it; believe the fact that his brother gave his life to give Loki a chance to change the tides, and Loki had failed.

It was just one more life lost in the countless that perished, and yet somehow this one different. This one felt like one he couldn’t accept; couldn’t _bear_. In the universe all lives were equal, but Loki wasn’t the universe.

He didn’t weep though. He had wept enough, rocking himself for hours… days, unable to stop himself from grabbing Starlight and confirming that it hadn’t just been a hallucination, a nightmare. Stark had brought him to his tower, and settled him in a room, without much input from Loki. When he had tried to take the dagger away, Loki had balked, so Stark had let it be.

With the light of Yggdrasil, Loki noticed that Stark had even more its branches wrapped around him now than he did in Nidavellir, more shoots sprouting from him. Where the rest of the light blinded him, Stark exuded the calm and the _hope_ that Yggdrasil had always been the symbol of.

So two days after the war, Loki had made himself get up and seek the mortal out, his presence bringing a peace to his soul that Loki otherwise thought lost. After that, he tried to spend as much time in Stark’s company as was allowed. Stark never pushed him away.

That’s what he did with Fandral’s news too. He motioned Fandral to follow him, and went out in search for Stark; it was the only anchor Loki had left. It didn’t escape his notice how Thor’s friend followed him without protest, while before he would’ve bristled at being ordered by him. He was the only one of his four friends left now, Hogan having fallen during the attack on Statesman, and Sif and Volstagg becoming ash like countless others.

He found Stark in the conference room. Over the last few days, Stark had spent most of his time there, figuring out what to do with a world that had lost half the people; there were countries without leaders now, and armies without generals. Chaos.

Stark had circles under his eyes, had lost weight and gained years to his life in just a few days. Loki knew for a fact that Stark wasn’t sleeping, and was pretty damn sure he wasn’t eating either. Loki wasn’t either, but mortals needed a lot more maintenance to stay alive. And yet, Loki marveled at the strength of him. He hadn’t crumbled, hadn’t shed any tears, and hadn’t rocked himself on the ground like Loki had. He had stood firm, iron in his spine, and not let the storm bend him.

But Loki knew that if you refused to bend, the only other option was shattering.

Now, he found him in the conference room, standing next to none other than Dr. Banner. Loki felt a tiny spark of happiness at seeing a familiar face he had thought lost.

“Dr. Banner,” he nodded, reserved. The scientist had no such compunctions. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Loki.

“Loki! It’s good to see you alive,” he said, sincere. The last time they had met, Banner had barely tolerated him. “The other guy is glad too.”

“It’s good to see you well.” Loki said, honest. “Fandral informed me about the fate of Statesman and the rest of Asgardians.”

“Yeah, man! It’s chaos. With you, Thor and Heimdall gone, nobody knew what to do. And then afterwards… I can’t tell you how bad it is Loki, hardly five hundred have survived. Brunhilde is looking after them as well as she can but there’s nowhere to go.”

“They can come here.” Loki startled at Stark’s voice and turned around to look at him. There was a smile on his face that was all act and didn’t reach anywhere near his eyes, “I see you’ve found yourselves new favorites during your holiday in deep space.”

“Sorry,” Banner looked chagrined. “We have… um… history.”

“Evidently.” Stark came to stand next to Loki.

“Do you mean it?” Fandral stepped forward and asked, his eyes hopeful in the world that had lost all of it. “Will the Asgardians find a home on Midgard? That was what Thor had planned, but without him…”

“Yes. Of course. If you hadn’t heard, half the property just went on sale,” Stark laughed a humorless laugh at his own morbid joke, but then sobered up. “Call them. I will figure out the paper work involved into making Earth a refuge for those that have lost their homes.”

“Thank you.”

“There is one stipulation though.” Stark looked at Fandral pointedly, who only nodded. “I am taking your ship. There’s someone I left behind.”

Loki glanced sharply at Stark, but he refused to meet his eyes. Loki knew what it was about. There had only been one person that had shattered Stark’s iron control until now.

“Anything.” Fandral dropped to his knees, his head bent, swearing fealty to the only royalty that mattered on Midgard, and Loki couldn’t swallow past the lump in his throat. Even when Loki was king, Fandral had never bowed to him and meant it. Not like he did now, to Stark.

But Stark didn’t seem to care. He turned around and walked away, already busying himself in the next task, fixing the next thing, not even realizing how he himself was falling apart.

* * *

Stark tried arguing about going alone.

“All your people are on Earth now,” he said, straight faced and composed. Loki felt himself missing the gesticulating genius, when he felt anything other than numbness at all. “You don’t have anything there.”

“You’re going.” Loki said as a way of explanation.

Stark’s eyes searched his face, and then he stopped arguing.

Titan was red, as if the planet had soaked up all the blood its mad representative had spilled. Loki stepped on it and felt anew the weight of actions of one being, of one creature with his heart dark enough to crave destruction and his mind sharp enough to shroud it in the aura of mercy.

The universe had never so felt fragile to him before this.

Stark didn’t have eyes for the twin moons on the sky, or the red sand under his feet. Instead his eyes searched for something precious he had lost. Someone.

When the crash site of the Black Order’s ship came into view, Stark broke into a run, stuttering out a wretched, “Peter.”

Hope was the worst torture to inflict on anyone, but Loki didn’t know how to stop it.

There was no one to be found near the crash site. Stark activated some scanner on his suit, and it scanned the area around them.

“Registering one life-form, other than the two of us.” Stark whispered. In the awful quiet of the planet, Loki heard him anyway.

When they found the other life-form on the planet, Loki had to reach out and put a hand on Stark’s shoulder as he stiffened. It wasn’t the boy they were looking for. The Norns were never that merciful.

Instead, it was a girl with blue skin and android parts, lying broken and mangled on the red stones. And she needed their help. Stark cursed aloud and proved yet again that he was, at his heart, a hero.

A few hours and a lot of nano-bots aided repair later, the girl woke up with a pained gasp, scrambling for purchase, fear and pain evident in her eyes even if her face was expressionless.

“It’s okay,” Stark calmed, and his voice told Loki that he was indeed a parent at heart, even if he had not sired anyone. “You’re safe now.”

“Thanos,” she croaked, terror and loathing in her voice.

“Dead.” Stark answered a question she hadn’t asked, matter of fact. She didn’t seem to believe him.

“He…” She tried to get up, but Loki pushed her down. Her parts were barely glued together, and wouldn’t survive movement. “He…The screams. The wizard tried, but he was only Terran, too weak to bear seeing pain of others. Peter, he…Drax. And Mantis and…” she swallowed and Loki was sure she was swallowing her own panic. “Thanos has the time stone now. We need to… we need to warn… someone.”

Loki felt terrible for her. She was obviously so young, so lost, trying to be brave while not knowing the universe had already lost. Stark placed a hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eye.

“Thanos is dead,” his voice was so sure that even the girl stilled, her eyes wide. “Stabbed through the heart with a dagger powered with magic. He’s gone.”

The girl slumped, her strings cut. “Oh god.”

“What happened here?” Stark asked, after giving her a moment to recollect herself. His voice was soft when he added. “Did you see a young boy in a ridiculous red suit by any chance?”

She looked stricken, the recognition and the pain in her eyes gave both of them the answer.

Stark stood up, shaking his head, still in denial.

“Stark,” Loki couldn’t help calling his name, wanting to comfort for a pain he couldn’t fathom how to begin helping with.

“Stark!” The girl did get up now, her joints creaking. “You’re Tony Stark?” She asked, her eyes frantic even though her voice was monotonous.

“Yes?”

“He… the wizard, before he turned to dust, he told me that if I see you, you should know that this was the only way.”

“Only way to what?” Stark’s body was taught like a spring, his voice tense.

“In fourteen million realities, the only way to win.”

* * *

Tony picks out a black suit from his closet. After a moment’s consideration, he replaces the white dress shirt with one of his casual t-shirts. This one has a saucer spaceship printed on it, and the words under it say “ _Aliens are out there_ ”.

“What do you say, J? Perfect attire for the official first contact?”

“It could be worse, Sir.” Jarvis sounds pained, and it makes Tony grin.

“You’ve got no sense of adventure, Sweetheart. We are entering a new era; live a little.”

Tony strips out of his clothes and enters the shower, enjoying the warm water unwinding his cramped muscles. He has been obsessively working in his workshop for the past two days, something about alien contact putting him on high alert, telling him he has to prepare for the worst. It is only because Pepper and Jarvis had colluded together to shut down his lab in time for the conference that he manages to drag himself out of it.

“Talk to me J,” he says while lathering shampoo in his hair, “Who else will I have to tolerate for the next few hours other than the President and Fury.”

“The guest list for the conference is marked as confidential, I’m afraid.”

“And that stops you, how?”

“I try to act within the constraints of law, as far as I can.”

“Liar,” Tony pouts, tilting his head back and letting the shampoo rinse away. “Okay then, tell me something about our foreign guests.”

“There is not much on record,” Jarvis starts, making Tony frown again, “But there is some information available for the people attending it.”

“That’s more like it.” Tony grins, grabbing a towel.

“There are two beings arriving here, marking themselves as royalty of two different realms.”

Tony snorts. “Realms… what is this? Medieval Era?”

“I don’t think it’s wise to mock the traditions of two different _realms_ , Sir.”

“Yeah, yeah. I raised you, and now you lecture me. Alright, two royal, pompous aliens. Do we have the names?”

“Yes. I believe so. Mr. Odinson, Prince of Asgard,” Tony can’t stop the eye roll at the pretentiousness of even the name. “And Prince of Jotunheim, Mr. Laufeyson.”

Tony freezes, halfway through putting on his shirt, everything in him stilling at the words. When he doesn’t reply for a few minutes, Jarvis grows concerned.

“Everything alright, Sir?”

“What was the name again?” Tony pulls on the shirt and swallows harshly, something sharp digging into his chest, and it’s not the shrapnel.

“Mr. Laufeyson,” Tony rubs his left arm where the ache spreads, “Have you heard the name before?”

Has he? Tony can’t help the pang of longing and familiarity at hearing the name but no matter how much he searches his memory, he can’t figure out how it seems so familiar. He asks Jarvis anyway.

“Is there any record of someone called Laufeyson in your databases?”

Jarvis is quiet for a moment, then answers. “Not in the ones I can access.”

Tony hums, the edge of a memory he can’t quite grasp already slipping away from his grasp. He shrugs, continuing with his dressing up. “Must’ve dreamt it or something. Forget about it.”

He will know soon enough anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I continue being sorry, yes. But also... hey! Things have started looking up for our other!tony. So pls don't hate me?
> 
> The love, enthusiasm and comments this fic has gotten has given me LIFE. please keep providing that life. I am in dire need for some life-energy these days. <3\. You are all such sweeties and i love you all a lot.


	7. Chapter 7

Stark insisted on holding a funeral.

Most of the people who had become victims of Thanos’s madness had already had their funerals held by their loved ones who survived. There were joint ceremonies, because there was too much grief to go around, and not enough people to mourn. Loki knew that Peter’s aunt had arranged one for her nephew before. He had seen the invite in Stark’s hands, and saw him put it in a waste bin. He had never shown up to the actually ceremony. Loki understood denial very well, and hadn’t said anything.

So he got it. Stark needed this. He needed the closure now that he _knew_.

He also should’ve anticipated the fall out.

The ceremony was beautiful. Loki had attended funerals in Asgard, with its rituals and grandeur; compared to that the ceremony for this boy was small and personal, but it the grief behind it just as real. Loki had never known Peter, but he couldn’t help the ache in his heart when the kid’s friends came forward to pay their respects.

Thor had had no funeral.

Stark sat through the ceremony without shedding a tear, his face expressionless. He didn’t break even when a woman who Loki guessed was Peter’s aunt slapped him on his face, and then sobbed in his arms. He hugged her, rubbing her back, murmured a barely audible, “I’m so sorry,” but kept himself standing straight, iron in his spine.

So Loki was completely unprepared to be jerked awake by the voice of Stark’s assistant.

“Mr. Odinson.” Friday—as Stark called her—sounded anxious, despite the calm tone. “I’m afraid there’s a bit of an emergency in the lab. Boss has… I’m not quite sure but…”

Loki didn’t wait for her to finish her sentence, already on his feet and making way towards the elevator. The doors opened automatically, and the system didn’t prompt him to say which floor he wanted to go to. That, more than anything, told Loki that Friday was _concerned_.

When the doors to the workshop opened, a robot that Stark called Dum-E came rolling towards him, whirling around in unmistakable panic. Loki suddenly understood why Stark treated his creations like his children; they were _intelligent_.

He followed Dum-E to a bench, and it took him a moment to notice what the problem was. Once he saw it, saw _him_ , he raced forward.

“Anthony,” the name felt more fitting on his tongue, “Anthony it’s alright.”

Stark was on the ground, curled into a ball and rocking himself, apparently unaware of his presence. Loki moved forward until he wrapped his arms around Stark’s rocking form. That seemed to register to him, because he gasped, taking in a long breath. How long had he been unable to breathe, Loki had no idea.

“Shushh,” Loki rubbed Stark’s arms. “It’s okay.”

Stark shook his head in denial. “He’s dead. He’s dead… he really is dead.”

Loki didn’t know what to do, so he just sat there as Stark collapsed against him. “It’s my fault,” Stark said. “I told him to go after the wizard. If I hadn’t… if I didn’t… So many dead.”

Loki didn’t correct him; didn’t remind him that even if Peter hadn’t been on Titan, he wouldn’t have survived Thanos’s final move. Somehow he didn’t think it would help.

“It will be okay,” he lied, because that’s something he was good at.

He lost time of how long he sat there, with Stark in his arms. Sometime later, tears started soaking his clothes, and he realized that they weren’t just Stark’s. There was too much grief and loss to be contained inside their bodies, and he didn’t even know if he was crying for his own grief, or for Stark’s.

He managed to move them to the cot Stark kept in the lab. It was too small for two people, but Stark curled into himself once he got on it, and Loki didn’t have the heart to leave him like that, looking so small and vulnerable. So he climbed into the cot with him, and somehow all of his edges and corners fit perfectly with Stark’s, and it didn’t feel like a tight fit at all.

“Sleep, Anthony,” Loki murmured, quiet, and felt Stark let out a shuddering sob at that.

A while later, Dum-E brought over a lab-sheet and dumped it over them, and despite the tears, Stark even managed a chuckle. They slept like that, in a bed too small for them, under a lab sheet for blanket, and somehow it was the first night since this all started that Loki didn’t wake up because of nightmares.

* * *

By mutual understanding, they never talked about what happened. Stark was already deep into his experiments when Loki woke up, and Loki didn’t disturb him. But when night fell the next day, and when Friday informed him that Stark was in his bedroom, Loki walked up to it and knocked on his door.

They didn’t say anything while Loki took off his clothes, climbing into bed quietly. Even though the bed this time was large, they still huddled close, wrapping around each other. The grief still had his heart in a vice, but this time Loki was awake for it when Stark’s breaths evened out, and it loosened the knot in his heart slightly.

He slept better in Stark’s bed, than he had ever done even in his chambers on Asgard.

Their sleeping arrangement was oddly chaste, until on the fourth night, he woke up to Stark sobbing against his chest. When he tried to get up, tried to ask him what was wrong, Stark shook his head, and then to shut Loki up properly, Stark kissed him.

Loki took too long to respond, but Stark didn’t get disheartened. He kissed Loki hard and rough, and then slow and gentle, and it was the gentleness that broke Loki. He needed comfort as much as Stark did and he couldn’t refuse it when this was the only time it had been offered to him in longer than he cared to remember.

Stark tasted of saltwater when he kissed him back; saltwater and peace, and the reminder that somehow, by some sick twist of fate, they were still alive. From there it was easy to push Stark into bed, and kiss him until both their chests ached because of lack of oxygen rather than the pain of loss, and then wrench his mouth away from soft lips to press them against hard and smooth skin, trail it down and linger on the metal still embedded in Stark’s chest. He mouthed open kisses across Stark’s body and caressed with licks of his tongue and dug his teeth into supple skin as his fingers left marks where they pressed too hard.

Stark let him.

He let Loki open him up and push inside, and didn’t even cry out in pain even though Loki knew he was being too rough. He wondered if the pain was welcome; if the physical nature of it was a pleasant change from the one that had made him sob into Loki’s chest a while ago. Loki didn’t ask him, but when his movements gentled and Stark looked at him with pleading eyes, Loki didn’t question it, and gave them both what they both needed.

A release of some of the pent up emotions, and a proof of life.

It wasn’t nearly enough, but it would have to do.

When he came, it was with a shuddering whisper of Anthony’s name on his lips; the tears that fell from his eyes when he wrapped his arms around Stark later were a release of their own. Stark didn’t question them, and Loki didn’t question his.

* * *

After the snap, after Loki cut Thanos’s hand off, nobody touched the gauntlet—charred and ruined now—for days. Stark left it there, in the open field of Wakanda where the battle for the universe was fought and lost. Wakanda had set guard around it, and those who survived had good sense to leave the weapon of their destruction alone. At least for a while.

Then the reports started coming in from Wakanda. Someone from the Dora Melaje had tried to wield it, to bring back their king, and had been incinerated on spot. A few other people also tried their hand on it, sneaking past the guard, and met the same fate. Then Okoye contacted the Shield Headquarters. Stark was the only one left in charge of it, so he and Loki went back to Wakanda.

They stared at the damaged Gauntlet for a long time, in both awe and disgust, before Stark whispered, “For something that took so many lives, it is remarkably beautiful.”

“It is.” Loki couldn’t help but agree. Two of the six stones glittering on the metal in front of him had been responsible for much of the pain wrought on him in recent years; he remembered very well the wretched feeling of being under the control of mind stone, and the things he had to go through because of the mere existence of the space stone. Yet, despite that, their beauty was undeniable.

They were as beautiful as they were deadly, and maybe that was the point. It made them irresistible. Even now, Loki wanted to pick them up, have the power to redo everything in his life, have the power to fix all that went wrong. That’s what had tempted the mortals. That’s why it needed to be destroyed.

This was too much power for anyone to wield.

Stark had come to the same conclusion, because he turned to Loki and asked, “How do we destroy it?”

“Must we?” It was out of Loki’s mouth, despite thinking exactly the same thing.

Stark just nodded tightly, and looked back at the gauntlet. Now that Loki was looking at him, he could see the same longing in Stark’s eyes that he had felt a moment before.

“The price would be too much, Anthony.” Loki placed a hand on Stark’s shoulder and felt him stiffen under the touch.

“Will it?” The chuckle he emitted was harsh and cruel, “Is there anything left to lose?”

Loki understood that; he could relate to that. But he also knew that there was always more to lose. Your freedom, your sanity _, yourself_. He didn’t try to explain it to Stark though, he was sure Stark was already aware. It wouldn’t help. Instead he said _would._

“It would be useless anyway. The gauntlet is damaged, and without it, no being can harness the power of the stones, not even a Titan,” he didn’t hide the bitterness in his voice. “Nor even a god.”

Stark nodded again, this time his face was determined. Loki pulled back his hand and watched Stark become the General he was. “If we can’t destroy it, and we can’t use it, we need to move it away from here.”

Loki made a gesture with his hands, opened up his personal pocket dimension, and the gauntlet disappeared from in front of them. When Stark looked at him in alarm, he explained. “Only for transportation. Once we are back in the tower, you can build a vault for it.”

The explanation seemed to be enough for Stark, because he nodded and extended his hand towards Loki, an invitation for him to teleport them out of here. Loki felt a spark of pleasure at the ease with which Stark trusted him, and knew it wasn’t one sided. Losing the battle to save the universe together created bonds that ran deeper than he could’ve imagined.

Loki gripped Starlight, still awed by the sheer power it contained, and then in a blink they were back in the tower.

Later, after the gauntlet was placed in a lead vault under the highest of the securities, after Stark had conducted his experiments on the piece of charred black finger that he had Loki remove from the gauntlet, after they had fallen in bed and their hands found each other… gentle and reassuring now, after weeks of doing this, Stark spoke in the quiet darkness of the bedroom.

“You said that the gauntlet was damaged.”

Loki, still buzzing from the only pleasure he allowed himself these days, pulled Stark tighter in his embrace and hummed curiously. “Yes.”

“Can it be fixed?”

Loki shook his head. It wasn’t just the metal that was broken, the magic inside it was too. He knew there was no salvaging it.

“What about making another one?”

Loki stiffened a little at the question, somehow already knowing where this was going, and not liking it. “There’s no metal on Midgard that can channel that much energy, and no one with the knowledge of how to create it.”

“Yes.” Stark agreed, turning around to look at him. Despite the exhaustion of the day, his eyes were bright. “But I am not talking about earth right now.”

Loki searched his face for a moment, and then sagged in bed. He knew he would not be able to change Stark’s mind. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to. Hope was a wretched thing, for it burned one from inside.

“Eitri.”

* * *

 

Tony saunters into the building where the conference is being held with a deliberately faked skip in his step. It is the best way to annoy your peers into making mistakes.

“What did I tell you, J. Right on time.”

“The meeting was supposed to begin twenty minutes ago, Sir.” Jarvis sounds like he’s grinding his teeth, and it really shouldn’t be possible for a machine to do that. “Twenty minutes you could’ve saved if you had not taken the detour I advised against.”

“Fashionably late, then.”

Jarvis sighs, but does not correct him. Grinning from exasperating an AI into silence, he scans his retina at the door and pushes open the door.

There is a long table in the room, with people sitting on both sides of it. From the head, Fury stands up, his face an accurate representation of his name.

“Stark. You are late.”

Tony’s smile turns sharper; he has never quite liked Fury. “No, I’m not. Your meeting was early.” He walks towards Fury, where he knows his seat would be. He sees a few familiar faces on the way, giving a curt nod to Steve Rogers, America’s moral icon for better part of the century, winking at Stephen Strange, renowned neurosurgeon, and passing a grin to his favorite leader of the country. King T’Challa smiles back at him and he considers it a win. When he passes by Dr. Bruce Banner, he has to stop for a handshake.

“Dr. Banner,” he enthuses.

“Mr. Stark.” He stands up, looking nervous. Stark knows what it’s like to have a hundred eyes on you, waiting for the moment you will blow up. He can relate to the doctor. That’s what prompts him to say.

“Your work on anti-electron theory is unparalleled. And I’m a great fan of the way you lose control and turn into a monster.”

People across the table stifle their gasp, but ignores them, noticing the small smile appearing on Banner’s face. “Uh… thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

When he reaches his chair, Fury has found a way to look less like he is about ready to commit murder, but the pulsing vessel on his forehead gives him away. Tony enjoys it far more than he should. He has learned his lesson though, because he doesn’t try to reprimand Tony again.

“Thank you for gracing us with your presence,” he says instead, biting out the words. “We have already gone through the introductions, so now if you will settle down, I’ll introduce you to our guests.”

Tony bends in a mock bow and sits down. Finally, he turns towards the other end of the table, where he had been aware their extra-planetary visitors were sitting. He has been avoiding them on purpose. The more importance you give someone, the stronger they feel they are. Stark knows how to play this game, and he isn’t about to lose it.

“Like you must’ve read in your briefing, we have the princes from two different realms visiting us today, for cultural exchange and to secure peace treaty.”

Tony looks at the two men who are distinctly different from humans despite their humanoid appearance. His eyes take in the large, muscular man with long hair who would pass for a human if he wasn’t exuding an aura of god-like powers and if his hand and his eyes didn’t flicker with lightening every few seconds. “That’s Thor Odinson, representative of Asgard, Son of Odin.” Thor inclined his head towards him, and Tony returned the gesture of respect.

“And that’s…” Tony’s eyes took in the second visitor, blue skin easily marking him an alien from the distance, and sucked in a sharp gasp, his stomach sinking to the floor and his heart beating in his throat.

“Loki!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter to go. Omg. I am almost... nostalgic already. Also... I love comfort sex as a trope and you'll take it from my cold dead hands. Yes.


	8. Chapter 8

Stark’s workshop was no forge powered by a dying star, but the glint in Eitri’s eyes when Stark took him there told Loki that it was adequate. More than so.

It hadn’t taken a lot to convince Eitri to accompany them to earth when they went back to Nidavellir. Eitri was in his quarters, unaware that the world as he knew it had ended. Loki cursed himself for not thinking about the lonely king of dwarves before, but it was pointless to dwell on that now. Eitri saw Starlight in Loki’s hands and the pain etched on both their faces, and agreed immediately. Redemption was a powerful motivator. And there was no one left on the frozen rings to hold him back.

It wasn’t easy, working on the gauntlet. The first time Eitri had made it, it was made for a Titan to wear, and even so it had taken the deep magic of Nidavellir, the power of a dying star, and Eitri’s finesse to create it. Now, none of that applied any longer. Even so, they managed to work out a system, Loki feeding the metal his magic, Tony being Eitri’s hands, and the computer sensors giving the readings from the stones locked inside the vault.

It went slow, and for a while it felt like a lost cause. Two weeks into the endeavor, Eitri let out a snarl and threw the metal across the room. It smashed against the workshop wall, creating a dent in the mortar, as well as their souls.

Loki realized then that the name Iron man fit Stark more than just because of the suit he wore. There was iron in his spine, and in his soul, and he kept going even when the weight he was carrying would’ve made anyone else buckle. Loki found him in the workshop the very next day, beating the metal from the dwarf star, bending it to his will, and felt glued to the ground in awe.

“What?” Stark glanced at him, defiance in his eyes.

Loki closed his open mouth, and stepped closer. “You need some help?” If Stark won’t lose hope, he couldn’t allow himself to do so either.

Exactly at that moment Eitri entered the lab and growled, “Who the hell taught you to beat the metal while cold, you fool. You will break it. Put it down before you ruin all our efforts.”

The smile on Stark’s face was both brittle and relieved, and together, they once more picked up the pieces of their project, as well as of their shattered hopes.

That’s how the next few months passed, with them working tirelessly in Stark’s workshop until FRIDAY informed them they had gone longer than was acceptable without food or sleep. She mostly said it for Stark’s benefit, but Loki knew if he and Eitri decided to stay, Stark would as well. FRIDAY was clever like that, and Loki was beginning to like her more and more.

At night—or whenever they came up for air—Loki would crawl into Stark’s bed, unprompted but never unwelcome. They still refused to talk about it, whatever it was that they were doing, but when Loki pulled him closer, he came willingly, melting into his touch.

Sleep was easier that way. The nightmares that plagued them both, easier to handle.

Once, Loki fell asleep in Stark’s arms and woke up in the iris on Nidavellir, being burned by the sun and unable to escape, the heat building and building, until he woke up shivering and screaming.

When he opened his eyes, Stark was running soothing fingers through his, cupping his face, and his touch burned as well, searing his skin. He only realized he was crying when Stark kissed away his tears, and only realized he had turned into his Jotunn form when he saw his red eyes reflected in Stark’s as he pressed their lips together. Loki couldn’t change back into his Aesir form for days afterwards; neither Eitri nor Stark made a single comment about the monster’s skin he was wearing. Loki didn’t know how to handle their calm acceptance, but he did appreciate it.

A few days later, they were both in bed, too tired to manage anything other than the comfort of a warm embrace, when Stark spoke quietly, almost like he was scared to be heard.

“What if we succeed? What if the make the gauntlet? What then?”

It was a question Loki had dared not ask, a scenario he dared not wish for. Because he didn’t know the answer to that. So he didn’t. They kept quiet, just breathing, until Stark spoke again.

“What you said about there always being something to lose, I think I understand it now.”

Loki ran his fingers down Stark’s back, gentle. He didn’t know who he was comforting. “It will be alright.”

“It won’t be.” Stark’s voice shook with barely restrained anger and fear. “It’s not fair. Haven’t we given enough? Why must the universe ask for more?”

“It will be alright, Anthony,” Loki rolled over and kissed the protest off of Stark’s lips. He didn’t want to talk about what he will be losing; not while he still had it. Right now, he meant to savor it, for he didn’t know when it will be snatched from him.

When it will be the moment of choosing to do what is _right_ , rather than what is selfish. Loki knew that it was about time he made the correct choice. Didn’t mean he looked forward to it.

* * *

Earth became a refuge for all the species that lost everything, for the races that didn’t have enough people left to survive. Once the Asgardian’s landed there, it was like a beacon was lit, and everyone who didn’t have a home any longer, knew the doors to earth were open.

There were some protests by the humans, but the number of houses without residents in them, the sheer magnitude of a planet losing half its life, quickly overwhelmed any rebellions. There was no room for petty bigotry left by the space grief had consumed. And when there was any, Stark went on a live conference and curbed them all.

When the Iron Man talked, the world listened, and Starlight hummed in delight at Loki’s side.

And against all odds, things started working, both in the world outside, and inside the workshop.

“Is it done?” Stark asked, after he welded the last of the phalanx together. His voice was blank, but Loki could read trepidation in his eyes. “Is this it?”

Eitri grunted, too focused on the task, his bionic arms having become a second nature to him by now. Loki saw something on Stark’s face and grabbed his arm, taking him back to their room. The fact that Stark didn’t resist was troubling.

Once inside the room, Stark leaned back against the door and looked completely drained. Defeated. Loki wanted to wipe that look away from his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, moving closer instinctively, cupping Stark’s face.

He leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. “What will you do?”

“Hmm?”

“When it’s done… what will you change? Will this… _us_ … change as well?”

It took a moment for his words to register, and when they did, Loki stiffened. “Stark?” The strain in Loki’s voice made Stark open his eyes. “I will not be the one to wield the gauntlet.”

Stark blinked at him confusedly, like he didn’t understand what Loki had said. “What?”

“I can’t!” Loki pulled his hand back from Stark’s face and clasped them both at his back, defensive against his wish.

“What do you mean you can’t? Then who will?”

“I don’t know.” Loki couldn’t bear the look on Stark’s face anymore and turned around. “It can’t be me. The temptation, the power it offers. It’s too much. Already, it calls to me. Nothing will be left of me if I touched it. Don’t you understand? I can’t.”

He looked back at Stark, begging him to understand. To his relief, it seemed like Stark did. “Alright,” he nodded, looking sad but determined. “We can always ask the captain. I’m sure he—“

“No!” The vehemence of his objection surprised Loki as well. He closed the little distance he had put between the two of them and grabbed Stark’s face in both of his hands, looking into his eyes.

“Loki?” Stark asked, when all Loki did was stare at him.

“It must be you. No one else. I won’t trust the fate of this universe on anyone else.”

Stark, to his credit, did not flinch, did not fight it. He looked at Loki long and hard, and then nodded. Only because Loki could feel the tremor in his frame that he knew Stark was not as composed as he seemed. “I don’t think I can, Loki,” he admitted, quietly.

“You can, Anthony. If anyone can, it’s you.”

Stark chuckled humorlessly. “You are forgetting something, aren’t you, sweetheart. Mere mortal here. What did you call us? Ants?”

Loki shook his head. That was a long time ago, and even so, Stark was no ordinary human. The ties he had with Yggdrasil, the connection… Loki had never seen anything quite like it. “You will succeed.” He must. Loki could feel it in his marrow, in the beat of Starlight that pulsed through his heart, that Stark was the one for the job.

The only one.

Stark didn’t question the confidence in Loki’s voice. He just said, “Okay.”

* * *

“Will you remember me?” Stark asked, in the quiet darkness of their room. It seemed like that was the only time where they actually talked these days.

“I will always remember you,” Loki felt like Stark’s existence was tied into his magic now, into his soul, familiar and cherished. No infinity stone could change that.

Stark leaned back against Loki, and Loki tightened his arms around him. “Will you still fling me out of the tower?” Stark was trying to smile, but Loki could hear his heart breaking.

“I thought you enjoyed flying.” Stark’s wet chuckle twisted something inside Loki’s chest.

“If we pull it off… a universe without the stones… the only time we will meet will be during the invasion,” Stark whispered, the dread obvious in his voice. “None of this will ever happen.”

The horror in Loki’s heart grew until he felt like he would suffocate. He didn’t say it, couldn’t, not when Stark already sounded so grief stricken. “ _Without the stones, there will be no invasion,_ ” he didn’t say. Instead, he rubbed Stark’s belly soothingly, pressed a kiss to his nape, and murmured. “We will be okay.”

They had to be.

Any other outcome was inconceivable.

* * *

The thrum of power from the gauntlet with all six stones attached to it set Loki’s teeth on edge. Eitri stood by his side, his metal arms curled into fists, as they both watched Stark approach the table where the gauntlet was lying.

Loki grabbed Starlight, as he was prone to do these days whenever he felt like falling apart. The light of the Tree held him together, the way it wound around Stark and himself kept him tethered to the hope that whatever the reality, they will always find their way back to each other.

Stark was about to touch the gauntlet when Loki called out. “Wait.”

He looked up, finding Loki’s eyes, and the terror in them was obvious. Loki moved closer and pressed his lips to Stark’s forehead. He needed to say it, in case he never got to say it again. “I love you.”

Stark laughed. A bitter, bark of a sound, that Loki felt reverberating in his chest. “You’re a right bastard, you know that?”

“I know,” Loki agreed, and repeated, because for now, he could. “I love you.”

Stark didn’t say it back, but Loki didn’t need to hear it. It wasn’t what this was about. Instead, Stark gently pushed him away, and straightened.

Loki, understanding that it was what Stark needed, stepped back and watched, witness to the iron in Stark’s spine, witness to the most heroic thing that no one will remember.

“Good luck, boy!” Eitri said, and the respect in his tone was as rare as it was well deserved.

“Thanks, I guess. For everything.” Stark shrugged, trying to call back his usual bravado. Dum-E rolled towards him, somehow aware of its master’s distress, and Stark patted it on its head absently. “I’ll see you on the other end, I suppose.”

Nobody said anything, and after a nervous smile, Tony reached for the gauntlet, and slipped it on.

It fit perfectly.

Eitri had made it for him, so of course it did.

For a while, nothing changed, and Loki was afraid they had failed. Then Stark murmured, hoarse. “I can do it.”

Loki stiffened at the way Stark sounded, awed and insane.

“I can do anything. I can create a world without war. I can make a world without alcohol or drugs, without hate or jealousy…” His eyes shined bright, before dulling a little. “But then it wouldn’t be the world we live in.”

“Anthony,” Loki called out, wanting to touch Stark, wanting to snap him out of wherever he had gone, but he was too afraid of hurting him. He didn’t know what would happen if he broke Stark’s concentration and let the power of the gauntlet take over.

“Nothing would be learned,” he seemed to be winding down, trying to fight the power of the infinity gems with his mind and logic. “We wouldn’t advance as a species. In fact, we would devolve.”

He was quiet for a moment, and then the stones glowed bright, the soul stone making a shrill sound. Stark’s eyes looked crazed again. “I could make the world the technological paradise I know it will one day be. I can see my father again. I can bring Peter back.”

“Boy!” Eitri said, moving forward. But Loki grabbed his arm and held him back. “Come on, Tony. You are better than that, stronger.”

Loki agreed; but then, Eitri had never known the addicting, overwhelming feeling of holding an infinity gem in his hand. And right now, Stark held all six.

“You are right.” Stark said. Loki didn’t know who he was agreeing with. The voices in his head, most likely. “But being such a rich hypocrite, I am only going to do one little thing.”

His eyes focused, and he looked Loki in his eyes. There was nothing but clarity and sincerity in them.

“I love you too,” he said, and then snapped his fingers.

* * *

Tony doesn’t hear anything throughout the meeting. Well, almost anything. He sits straighter when its Mr. Laufeyson’s turn to speak, his eyes taking in every minute detail of his person, tracing the lines of his body and the markings on his skin. It seems familiar somehow, in a bizarre, surreal way. He is sure he knows the pattern of it where the markings hide behind the clothes; feels like he has traced them with his tongue.

Laufeyson talks about bonds that run deeper than blood, about alliances forged, and about some sort of magical tree binding all lives on the realms together. There are nine of those. Apparently. All Tony can do is not drag the man away and make him explain why Tony seems to know exactly how he will finish his sentences.

Tony has had a lot of people in his bed over the years, but even he is sure he would have noticed if he had taken a blue-skinned man who looked like his skin was cold enough to burn.

He wants to taste it. Is sure it will taste familiar.

If their extraterrestrial guest is bothered by Tony’s staring, he doesn’t show any sign of it. The golden haired man does send a glare or two in Tony’s direction, but Tony can’t bring himself to care.

When the meeting finishes, they all retired to the gallery where an informal event is arranged for socializing and dinner. The extra-terrestrial princes are immediately surrounded by politicians from around the world who wants to secure their favor for their teams. Tony shakes his head at them, slightly disgusted but not surprised.

He keeps an eye on his blue skinned interest, while he finds the only royalty he holds any respect for. King of Wakanda greets him with a warm handshake, and Tony talks to him about recent technological advances done by their country. He has almost finished the conversation when he remembers.

“Hey! Before I forget, your sister! This is my informal invite extended towards her for the next Stark Expo. I’ll send a formal one when its closer.”

T’Challa throws his head back and laughs. “She will be delighted to hear that, but you must prepare yourself to be dethroned from your seat of the technological mastermind. She has been looking forward to a faceoff with you.”

Tony smirks. “You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“You’re a brave man, Tony,” T’Challa teases, but there is a note of genuine respect in his voice. Tony shrugs. He loves Princess Shuri. She challenges him like very few do. And she wins those challenges as well, which is even rarer.

He spots Dr. Banner in a corner and proceeds to talk to him about his research. His papers really were a thing of wonder, and Tony has been looking forward to meeting him in person. He has almost wrapped up the conversation when he notices the movement from the corner of his eyes.

“Excuse me, I need somewhere else to be. But we should catch up. What about a science date? My workshop, next week?”

He waits until Bruce nods, reluctant and cautious. Then he claps him on his back, grinning. This seems like a start of an epic friendship. He knows it.

Tony finds what he’s looking for the moment he steps onto the balcony. Mr. Tall, Blue and Handsome is standing with his back to him and staring out at the lights illuminating the dark night.

“Hello, Gorgeous.” When he gets no response, he walks a few steps forward and joins him near the railing. “I mean, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“The first seemed more genuine,” the man turns towards him, and there’s a smile on his face that’s almost fond. “And I have found very little of that ever since I landed here.”

“Fair enough,” Tony meets his red eyes before deliberately winking. “Gorgeous.”

He is rewarded by a laughter, bright and tinkling. The gold around the alien’s neck and in his ears shines beautifully in the starlight, and Tony stares blatantly. He wants there to be no doubt about his interest.

“I haven’t been called that very often, I must say.”

“Really?” Tony is honestly incredulous. “Their loss then.”

Mr. Laufeyson smiles at him again, and then turns away. Thoughts churn inside Tony’s mind, thoughts about how he seemed to _know_ that smile, was sure he knew what it would taste like against his lips, thoughts about how this can’t be the first time they’ve met, not with how easy the conversation is. Not with how easy the _silence_ is.

“I know this is a stupid question, but have we met before?” Tony speaks, before they are inevitably interrupted again.

He expects to be laughed at, but instead, he is answered with another question. “You called me Loki.”

Tony rubs the back of his neck subconsciously. “Oh. You heard that. I don’t know where it came from. Like I said, I feel like I have met—“

“It is my name.” Tony stops short at the interruption and stares.

“Really?”

“Yes. Although it was never mentioned in any of the briefings conducted on Midgard.”

“Huh. Then how did I know it?”

“How indeed.” Loki stares at him and his gaze is intense. It makes Tony feel hot all over. He blames that for his next words.

“I also seem to know what your lips would taste like.”

Loki lets out a startled laugh. “And let me guess, you would like a demonstration for your supposition?”

There is mirth in Loki’s eyes though, a humor that Stark could get behind. So he steps closer to Loki, until they are chest to chest. “It is a terribly boring party,” he says.

Loki quirks his eyebrow. “I concur.”

“A scandal would make it more interesting, don’t you think?”

Loki seems to consider it for a moment, before saying. “I can’t fault the logic of that.”

Tony takes it as the consent it is, and slips his hand into Loki’s hair, pulling him forward for a kiss, lips crashing together the same moment as the memories do.

* * *

Tony kisses Loki, and remembers.

The loose branches of Yggdrasil, rooted in the souls of Anthony and Loki, severed and broken apart by altered timelines, join together again. An open, oozing wound that is finally sealed. The Tree hums in contentment, the Seidr sings.

And Tony’s heart no longer aches in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, at the end.  
> I will be lying if i say I am not sad to see it go.  
> It was a story that really would not leave me alone till i write it, and i didn't expect to get so involved in it. And then I didn't expect for anyone ELSE to be so involved in it. And for all the feedback and the encouragements you all have given me, all I can say is THANK YOU. You have no idea how much that meant to me. Specially these days, when life is difficult and busy, and writing is so hard to find time and motivation for.
> 
> That said,  
> I am almost scared of posting this chapter. Endings are hard. I really REALLY hope it satisfies everyone. <3  
> Let me know how you found it.  
> I tried not to be too on-the-nose about things, _trust your readers_ and all that, so if things are still confusing, well... we can make our own headcanons... and i'll love to discuss them too.
> 
> Lots of love to everyone.  
> And comments, as always, are my heart and soul.


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